


Shock to Your System

by theblacksmith



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Life Drawing Class, Mostly Fluff, The Author Regrets Nothing, kindergarten teacher! sansa, veteran!sandor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblacksmith/pseuds/theblacksmith
Summary: Sansa didn't plan on gaining anything from the life drawing session her best friend dragged her to.She went for the free drinks, and nothing more.She just hadn't planned on the model being everything she never knew she wanted...Or Sandor is this hot veteran that Sansa totally wants to make babies with.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 155
Kudos: 300





	1. Open

**Author's Note:**

> So, you're probably wondering why I've posted another story when I'm still working on another one...and that would be because I love to write and I'm 26. A full-grown adult that wants to share what I love with others. I finish all my stories, no matter how long it takes. 
> 
> Anywaysss, I hope you enjoy this quick, fluffy story that will most likely be 20,000 words because I don't know what quick means lol
> 
> I know nothing about life drawing sessions. 100 percent sure they don't allow drinking but for this fic they do ;)   
> 

**_Caught in this pool held in your eyes_ **  
**_Caught like a fool without a line_ **  
**_We're in a natural spring_ **  
**_With this gentle sting between us_ **

Sansa didn't know what the hell she was getting herself into. When her best friend Jeyne told her about these "life drawing classes" she had been taking recently and invited her, Sansa had guffawed at the idea of going.

So, how she wound up sitting before an easel on a Friday night with an excited Jeyne beside her- well, that was beyond her. Sansa thanked her lucky stars when she saw that alcohol was provided. Moseying past the others waiting to draw this naked man or woman, Sansa indulged on three glasses of wine and a handful of cookies before Jeyne glared at her from where she sat.

Sansa pounded back one more glass of wine and took her seat, staring at the large piece of paper Jeyne had set on the easel for her. There were pencils, charcoal, and some other things she didn't have the brainpower to name placed in a cup holder attached to the easel. She spared a couple of glances around her to see others beginning to quiet down, setting their art supplies up as the time drew closer to when the class would start.

"Did you have to pound four glasses of wine?" Jeyne said incredulously.

Sansa merely rolled her eyes, waving a hand in her direction. "It's not like anybody noticed. Plus, you expect me to draw some stranger naked while sober?"

Jeyne exhaled on an annoyed breath, pinning her dark gaze on Sansa, looking murderous. "Yes, I expect you to be sober for more than two hours out of a day."

The words were a low blow. Sansa felt them hit her straight in the stomach, settling a hand there to ease the ache. Her friend had a right to her anger. This past year had been just as hard on her as it was on Sansa. Jeyne had been by Sansa's side for the messy, prolonged divorce from Joffrey. The only way to forget the cruelty he bestowed on her was to turn to drinking. He shredded her of any semblance of confidence she may have had. Alcohol helped stave off her dark thoughts. When she was sober, she remembered his hands bearing down on her, the weight of his words threatened in her ear every-single-night, and she couldn't stand it. She wanted to forget but couldn't. Sansa could see that her issues were starting to take their toll on Jeyne. She couldn't blame her.

Sansa was unable to say what she wanted-a very handsome man took center stage, a bright smile on his face drawing her attention to him. She hardly heard a word he said, too focused on the way he looked. He was of a lean build, typically the body she was attracted to. With his big blue eyes and blonde hair, he was the prize candidate for her to go after. Yet, the way he looked left a sour taste in her mouth. He reminded her too much of her past.

She had the sudden urge to run out of the classroom.

Sansa was about to leave, slightly lifting from her chair until another man appeared beside the blonde man, and she fell unceremoniously back into her seat. This monolith of a man was unlike anybody she had seen before. Sure, she had seen her fair share of tall men, but he took the cake. He had to be at least 6'6 or more; his mass was only accentuating that fact. The black robe he wore looked silly on him. The material surrounding his shoulders was practically bursting at the seams, cinched around his tapered waist that left little to the imagination.

She swallowed through the thick lump that had formed as she took in his thick thighs, smattered in dark hair. This man was Adonis himself. Sansa knew the moment he took his robe off that she would die inside.

He stood there, stoic and imposing on the space all around him. She was sure that the oxygen had been leeched from the room with his presence. Sansa pressed her hand to her heart, a strong, racing beat replied. 

Sansa lifted her gaze to his muscular neck, where a silver chain laid against his tan skin, hiding whatever was attached to it beneath his robe. The scarring started on the left side of his neck, spanning up his jaw, over one side of his lips, leaving mottled skin on his cheek. Ebony hair hid the brow she knew was missing, hanging slightly over his left eye but not enough for her not to notice the way the burns caused the skin to droop around it. She skimmed over his hooked nose, taking in the unburned side of his face, showing just how handsome he was.

Sansa was drawn to the grey of his eyes, unique and unwavering as they remained fixed to the wall behind them. She could see the tic in his jaw, clenched teeth, his stance one of a soldier. Suddenly, he reached for the ties of his robe, shrugging the material off, and her mouth went dry.

She watched as his biceps bulged as he flexed them, realizing a little too late that he was striking his first pose. Everyone around her had begun to draw him, seemingly unfazed by his nudity.

Sansa couldn't stop herself from admiring all that he had to offer. The man was built like a warrior, tall and robust. His dog tags stood proud against a burly chest layered in dark hair. Scars seemed to mar every inch of revealed skin, from tiny nicks to what looked like bullet hole wounds to white, slashes on his heavily muscled stomach.

Sansa nibbled at her bottom lip, casting her gaze to the cut lines that pointed to where she wanted to look most. She forced her eyes up to his chest, enjoying the sight of dark curls smattered across it. But what made her hot all over was the neat strip of hair leading to where she wanted to look most. She swallowed hard, seeing that he truly was proportional all over.

Sansa slammed her focus back to the blank sheet of paper, noting she had to make something up at this point. Her hand shook while she began to draw his torso, trying to grasp why she was feeling this strong of an attraction to him.

Sansa knew her type. Even if she was straying off of dating blonde guys, she still preferred leaner men that were nearly her height. Standing in front of her was a guy that was the complete opposite of everything she looked for when it came to dating. Her core tightened, proving that what she thought she knew, had no meaning now. If this man asked her to strip, she would do it for him in a heartbeat. She could only imagine how easy it would be for him to lift her in those massive arms and do terribly dirty things to her.

"We are going to take a 10-minute break, and once we return, we will start doing longer poses that will allow more detail."

"Let me see what you drew," Jeyne said, snapping Sansa's attention over to her.

Jeyne scooted closer, looking at the several different sketches Sansa had done. They mostly consisted of his chest, arms, and stomach. She hadn't dared to draw more than that, not even his face.

Jeyne tilted her head to the side, brows furrowing in the middle. "Well, we will have more time these next rounds, so you'll have more time to sketch his face and lower body."

Sansa flushed immediately at the mention of his lower body. The image of his perfect cock embedded in her mind for as long as she may live. "Sure," she muttered.

The model had put his robe back on. The blonde man rambled on to him about whatever. He merely nodded to whatever he said, his arms folded over his enticing chest. Sansa wanted to reach out, smooth her hand over his forearm, and feel the bumpy scars beneath her fingertips.

"Sansa, are you okay? You seem a little flushed." Jeyne said, a slight tinge of worry pushing through.

"I'm fine." Sansa breathed, refusing to take her eyes off the specimen before her.

As if sensing her eyes upon him, his grey gaze shifted from the man to her. Her breath hitched, stomach twisting in knots at being caught. His brow drew in at the middle, mouth turning into a thin line. Sansa shifted her gaze away from his intense one, noticing the way his body had tensed up.

If Sansa thought her heart had been pounding before, it definitely didn't compare to the way it was now thundering like a bunch of wild buffaloes in her chest. The wine she had drunk made her head spin, meeting his eyes, becoming unable to turn away from his rampant stare.

She wanted him. She didn't care as to why she wanted him. All she knew was that she needed to feel him inside her. His eyes darkened, seeing something on her face that had his jaw clenching, the tic under his right eye returning.

"All right, everybody. We are going to start class again."

Grey eyes turned away from her own. The noise died down, everyone returning to their station while Sansa watched him take center stage once more. He was slightly more aggressive with taking his robe off, tossing it on the ground and grabbing the wooden chair the instructor had given him. He took a seat, placing his elbows on his knees. He threaded his fingers together, placing them under his nose, looking as if he was contemplating something that thoroughly bothered him. His brow was in a sharp line, eyes stern where they remained fixed on the ground.

Sansa focused as much as she could on drawing him for the next ten minutes, providing more detail and shading now that she had more time. His next pose was standing behind the chair, gripping the top rail, he held so tightly to it that his knuckles bled into white. Sansa emphasized the way his veins protruded against his tan skin due to how rigid he had become. She finally drew more than just his torso, sketching his face and the scars that marred it.

He did two more poses before the class came to an end, and everyone began packing their stuff. Sansa noticed most of the people who attended were college students, chatting about art class tomorrow. She remembered finishing college, starting her career in teaching.

She taught Kindergarten, taking the last year off to recover. She would have taken more time if it wasn't for Jeyne. She had insisted on Sansa going back to teaching because it could help with her recovery from both Joffrey and alcohol.

Sansa knew she wasn't wrong. She missed the children she was able to work with. They could always bring a smile to her face no matter what she was going through.

Sansa put her measly sketchbook back into her bag, tossing the pencil she had been using inside. She stood, stretching her limbs that had gone sore from sitting for so long. She couldn't imagine how tedious it would be to hold the same position for more than a minute. Sansa would not be taking any up any offers to be a life model anytime soon.

"So, did you have fun?" Jeyne asked, hoisting her bag over her shoulder.

"Yes, thanks for inviting me." It wasn't the complete truth. Sansa wasn't entirely sure if this had been fun or enlightening in a way she didn't think possible.

"Well, I'm glad you came. I have to go, but I'll see you soon." They hugged goodbye outside of the space rented for this particular life drawing session.

Once in her car, Sansa let out a deep sigh. She would probably never see that man again. The thought truly bummed her out. She drove home, ignoring the itch to turn to liquor.

∞

His fist hit the bag, another strike right behind the next. Pain ricocheted throughout his hands. He ignored it, continuing his violent onslaught without breaking stride. He kept his weight balanced, twisting his hips into a vicious right hook. Sandor could do this all night, the throb of his knuckles split, and bleeding did nothing to stop him.

"Sandor." Her voice filtered throughout the basement, his fist immediately seized to move, hanging in the air an inch from the bag. "Enough." It was a simple command.

Sandor's arm dropped back to his side, allowing him to come back down to earth. He realized he was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths. His hands were covered in his blood, sweat mixed with the color dripping onto the cement.

Sandor walked over to the sink, washing his hands clean of the blood. Pouring alcohol over the wounds, he didn't flinch as it stung deep into his skin. Once he finished bandaging his hands, he headed upstairs to take a shower. He found his mom in the kitchen cooking dinner. His sister drank a cup of coffee, face in a book per usual. His niece sat next to her, coloring what looked to be Scooby-doo. He smiled at that, heading to his refrigerator. He grabbed the protein off the top of it.

"I told you to stop hitting the bag without gloves."

Sandor grabbed his protein shaker out of the cabinet. He put two scoops of protein into the cup, mixing it with almond milk. "It doesn't hurt, ma."

His mom lifted her gaze to his, green eyes fierce. "I don't care whether it hurts or not. You're still injuring yourself either way. I won't stand for that."

Sandor chugged the drink, washing it out once he was done. "I know my own body and its limitations. I don't need you fretting over me."

"I'm your mother, Sandor. I will fret over you until the day I no longer walk this earth."

Sandor's mom was a tiny thing. People always wondered how she was capable of producing two beasts like him and Gregor. She had long, blonde hair with willowy features. Standing beside Sandor, he dwarfed her in every way possible. He was reaching 6'7 while she had to be hardly five feet. Being a marine had helped him to develop pounds upon pounds of muscle; his forearm was larger than one of his mom's biceps. Even with these vast differences, his mother still could spark legitimate fear in him.

At this moment, she was shooting daggers at him, managing to cut carrots without even looking at them.

"Ma, I don't need you breathing down my neck in my own home."

"Would you two cut it out?" His sister snapped, her green eyes flitting between them and her daughter.

"Sorry, El," Sandor grumbled.

"You already know how grateful I am that you took us in, Sandor. I know how much life has put you through." His mom's warm palms took hold of either side of his face, dragging his attention to her. He noticed she stood on tiptoe. He gently encircled both her wrists to help steady her. "You are my son, and I love you, dearly."

Sandor swallowed through the harshness that settled in his throat. When his father died a year ago, his mom had spiraled into depression. She had already lost Gregor not too long ago, the burden of his spiral into drugs weighed heavy on her after he was gone. She couldn't handle the loss of her beloved husband, so he took her in to watch over her. She was better these days, occasionally she would fall apart, and he would have to put the pieces back together, but most of the time, she could care for herself.

His sister, Elena, had been in a toxic relationship. Her husband had been abusive. Sandor practically forced her into living with him. She wound up divorcing the prick. Thankfully, her ex had no intention of bothering her with the knowledge that she lived with Sandor. Some good things came out of being a scarred, massive brute, and that had been one of them.

So, that's how he wound up taking care of his family. He would never turn them away. They had been the ones there for him after he was discharged from the Marine Corps after taking the brunt of a bomb to the face. Dozens of surgeries involving skin grafts were his only saving grace in giving him his face back. He would never be the guy he was before the bomb shattered his life when he was twenty-five. At thirty-five, he had begun to implicate himself back into society.

Bronn, another Veteran, injured by war, had told him about being a model for a life drawing class. Sandor had laughed in his face at the time. There was no way he would ever get naked in front of a group of people so they could ridicule his ugly face and fucked up body covered in even more scars. Bronn had insisted that it helped him get past his negative thoughts regarding things battle had inflicted on his body.

So, that's how Sandor found himself signing up to be a life drawing model. He had been about to walk away when he heard 'You're hired.' He had been startled to see a lithe blonde guy beaming up at him. He soon found out the man was fascinated by his scars and wanted more models that could help widen his artist's abilities. Sandor wanted to be offended. Instead, he let it go in favor of forcing himself to do something far outside of his comfort zone.

The first modeling session had gone surprisingly well, and Loras had taken a liking to him, hiring him more often than not to model for his classes.

A flash of red appeared in his mind. Big blue eyes full of something he couldn't seem to decipher. Her pink lips parted, drawing in deep breath after deep breath. He could see the slight shake of her form hidden under layers of clothing. She had been staring at him in a way, unlike any of the others.

"Sandor?"

Sandor snapped out of his thoughts to see his mom giving him a worried look. "I love you too, ma. I'll wear my gloves." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He pulled away from her, messing up his niece Kira' hair, she swatted at him, a giggle escaping her.

He made his way to his room, entering his bathroom to inspect the damage to his hands. Sandor took off his bandages, noting the bleeding had stopped. He took a shower, being careful not to cause his wounds to begin bleeding again.

After, he lay on his bed, hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, feeling the cold press of his dog tags on his heated skin. The nightmares of the past never left him. He could still remember holding his best friend's lifeless body in his arms. A mission went astray. It had all gone so wrong. That day under the boiling sun ten years ago was one he would never forget. It would haunt him until the day he was six feet under.

Sandor thought of blue eyes, not a far cry from the sky but full of a fire that threatened to consume him if he got too close.

He fell asleep with the knowledge he would most likely never see her again.

Or so he thought.

¤


	2. Panic Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed by the response I got from this story! 
> 
> THANK YOU!
> 
> Much love <3

**_My words disappear on a dry tongue_ **   
**_And I am trying to let you know it_ **   
**_But I am drowning by the moment_ **   
**_I guess I've been having trouble sleeping_ **   
**_But now I'm having trouble breathing_ **   
**_And I hate that I can be seen like this_ **

Sansa smoothed down her brown pleated skirt, ensuring her flowery blouse was adequately tucked in. She had finished the ensemble off by wearing her favorite pair of worn-out heels. She hadn't gotten around to shopping for herself as of late, more focused on buying stuff for her classroom. 

She was always nervous about the first day. The whole not knowing whether the children would like her or if she was presentable enough to the parents. She tended to get sideways looks from parents. She did her best to ignore the gossip of how she looked too young to be a teacher. At twenty-six, she was more than capable of handling a classroom and all thirty of the little rascals.

It was best not to feed into the negative energy of people who had no idea that teaching was the only reason she didn't give up entirely on life. She had been married by twenty-two and divorced by twenty-six. It didn't exactly boost one's confidence.

The toxicity of the relationship had taken a toll on her physically and mentally. She had become skin and bone without even realizing it. She free-fell into depression, unable to pull herself out of the mental cage she had become trapped in.

She turned to alcohol to keep her numb from the pain. It only tended to make things worse, not only had her marriage fallen apart, but friendships deteriorated, and her family all but gave up on her. Jeyne had only been able to take so much, reason being why she dragged her to the life drawing session. That had been the first time Sansa had gone out of the house in months. She didn't think that moment would shift everything so drastically in her life. It had, though. She quit drinking, started seeing a psychiatrist, and began eating enough to put on some weight to the point where her clothes no longer slid off of her. She managed to get her job back and was determined to get her life on track.

It had been months since she saw _him_.

He had haunted her dreams certainly enough. There was hardly a night where she didn't envision those grey eyes staring straight back at her. Sansa had sneakily brought him into a conversation with Jeyne while they were having lunch one day, finding out that he did those model sessions quite often. Sansa could surely seek him out if she wanted to. She just couldn't find the courage to do something so bold.

She wasn't entirely sure if she ever wanted to step back in the field of dating. She had never been the type to have a one-night stand or have a friend with benefits. It was a messy affair when it came to both situations. It didn't seem worth the pain. It probably would have been better than marrying Joffrey and spending four miserable years of her life wasting away. She took a deep breath, steering her line of thinking away from him. She tended to lose sight of herself when she thought about all the things she could have done with her life if she had refused to marry him like she wanted to in the first place. It wasn't healthy, and she couldn't afford to forget about all the progress she had made thus far.

The sound of footsteps petering down the halls had her frantically ensuring everything was in place, every name tag where it needed to be. She tended to be a bit of a perfectionist when it came to her classroom, and she'd be damned if things weren't adequately ready for her children. 

When she was satisfied with how the room looked, she shoved wisps of hairs behind her ears, clasping her hands in front of her. She was ready to guide these kids and be a good influence in their lives. For many of them, it would be their first experience in school, not having gone to pre-school. It would be a learning process for not only the child but herself as well. With every year she taught, she was always eager to learn what she could do more efficiently for the following year. She aimed not only to teach but learn from every child too.

A couple of parents walked in with their children, nervous energy blatant in the room as little eyes took in everything around them. The parents introduced themselves and their children. Sansa always got to eye level with them to make it less scary for the child. It always seemed to calm their nerves when they could look her straight in the eye.

She showed the children to their spots, and when the parents saw they were in good hands, they said their goodbyes. More parents and children filtered in until almost every seat was filled. She could tell the children were restless, but all were behaving well for the time being. She knew some would be a little more rambunctious than others, but it was never a bother to her. She catered to every child's needs, no matter whether they were quiet or loud.

She saw one more chair needed to be filled. She walked over, peering at the name at the same moment she heard footsteps behind her. She quickly twirled around, the hello she was about to say, getting caught in her throat. She saw the giant of a man bow his head slightly to get through the door. A girl dwarfed in his massive arms.

"Sorry, we're late. I wasn't expecting so much traffic," he said in a husky voice that sent heat spanning throughout her body.

She slowly lifted her eyes from his burly forearms to his grey eyes that starred in every one of her dreams for the past three months. She swallowed hard, dragging her attention to the little girl with her tiny arms barely able to wrap around his corded neck. She had short black hair, big green eyes that looked a little red underneath. Sansa hoped she hadn't been crying, but the apparent fear on her face stated otherwise. She knew how to calm down a scared child, that was if they weren't in the arms of a man that she knew looked like a Greek god beneath his clothes.

"Hello," she said a little louder than she had been expecting. She cringed at how it echoed in the small classroom.

His brow lifted. "Hi."

"I'm Sansa or Ms. Stark. It doesn't really matter to me. The kids are more than welcome to call me whatever is easiest for them," Sansa trilled, waving her hands. "I mean, they can call me Stark too or Sans, I'm partial to anything." She noticed the girl in his arms was giggling and pointed at Sansa. The hulk of a man gently grasped her wrist, pushing her arm down. She heard him mutter 'don't point,' but the girl was too excited to pay much attention to what he had said.

"She's silly, Unky."

Sansa snapped her hands to her sides, grasping her skirt to stop fluttering her arms around like a mad person. If her face wasn't beet red before, she had no doubts it was now. The whole class had dissolved into little fits of laughter. It was just what she needed on her first day-to make a complete fool of herself.

"Yes, she is," Sandor rumbled the barest hint of a smile on his ridiculously handsome face.

The little girl cupped her hand by Sandor's ear and whispered loud enough for the whole class to hear. "I think I'm ready."

He lowered to one knee, putting her onto her feet, when he cupped the back of her head, his entire hand spanned the length of it. Sansa cleared her throat, trying not to focus on how thick and long his fingers were.

"You be good, you hear?"

"Always, Unky." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, standing back to his full height.

Sansa had to crane her head back to meet his steely gaze. She tried and failed to read his expression, but it was like he was purposely masking his every thought and emotion.

"Um, I didn't quite catch your name?"

"Sandor," he said, tipping his head at her. He turned on his heel and strode out of the classroom, leaving her to stare at his broad back longingly.

A tug at her skirt brought her back into focus. She smoothed down her skirt and lowered to the little girl's height. "Hello, sweetheart, what's your name?"

"Kira," she shyly said, tipping her gaze down, shuffling back and forth.

"Well, Kira, I'm Sansa or Ms. Stark, whatever you prefer."

Kira's lips tipped into a smile. "I like Sansa."

"Then Sansa it is. Want to see your desk?"

Kira's eyes lit up, and she nodded. Sansa took her hand, leading her to her desk and shoved the thought of one large man out of her mind.

∞

Sansa tried not to take it offensively when Sandor no longer showed up to drop off his niece. Instead, it was Kira's mom, stating that she had gotten an interview that didn't allow her to drop Kira off the first day of school. Elena was kind and terribly sweet and adorably tiny. Sansa was tall for a woman, but due to Sandor's imposing height, she had been naturally inclined to believe his whole family would be a bunch of giants. It turned out to be not true at all because Elena could be no more than five feet tall.

As the days progressed, Sansa got to know all her students, finding which ones loved reading or the others that were drawn more to numbers, and the creative ones. She loved to draw on their strengths and allow them to shine at what they were naturally good at. She was never the teacher to force anything upon her students. She found that young children learned more when they didn't feel pressured. If they weren't big on reading, she would show them picture books, and ask them to tell her everything that was going on in the picture. It taught them to read differently than what was considered normal. Just like how she taught math to children that didn't excel in the subject, she always found an easier way for them to learn.

Kira always had her nose in a book, ones without pictures, but she struggled with numbers. Sansa used her love for reading to help her count each word and how she could add the words together or subtract them.

Sansa noticed how all her students were excelling in subjects that they weren't usually fond of, and that was why she loved teaching. Learning was something to be cherished and loved, not something crammed down your throat until you understand.

Sansa hadn't been prepared for the batch of cookies Elena brought in a few weeks later. She had thanked her profusely for helping her with math, stating how it had been difficult because Kira preferred reading. She couldn't quite wrap her head around how Sansa had gotten through to her, but she was glad nonetheless. Sansa could only shyly smile and thank her. She tended to get small gifts from the children. She hardly received anything from the parents. It was new to her.

Jeyne had invited her to another life drawing session. Sansa did want to go. She just didn't know if Sandor would be there again. She could hardly look in Elena's eyes, knowing she had seen her brother butt naked. She didn't know what she would do if she had to see him in all his glory tonight with the knowledge she totally wanted him in her bed.

Readily, she accepted Jeyne's invitation, steeling her nerves, and reminding herself that she was a mature young woman that could ask for a guy's damn number.

She shook her head, grabbing at her hair. Did she want to ask him to come over and fuck her within an inch of her life? Yes, but she still didn't know how she could act naturally around Elena or Kira if he accepted.

She felt that familiar itch that always led her to drinking half a bottle of cheap wine. She sat down, meditating, gathering her thoughts together. She had to start going after what she wanted. She so often found herself hiding away because she was afraid, scared to fall into old habits. She could tell Sandor was nothing like Joffrey, and it wasn't like she was going to marry the guy or something. She just wanted him to give her the best sex of her life, and they could go their separate ways. It could _totally_ be that easy.

She groaned, falling back onto her wood floor. Her cat 'Lady' jumped on her stomach, purring, and pushing her little paws into Sansa. She was an all grey cat, with a white underbelly. She had been a stray, and Sansa didn't have the heart to cast her aside. Lady had given Sansa comfort she never knew she needed.

She could credit Lady for helping Sansa realize life wasn't meant to sit around moping. It was meant to be lived to the fullest.

She stroked her hand over Lady's soft coat of fur and accepted that if Sandor were the model for tonight, she would ask for his dang number. If he ended up rejecting her, she would lick her wounds and move the hell on. There was no time to cry over some guy. A really hot guy that could fuck her against the wall, but that was irrelevant. He was just a guy, and nothing more.

∞

Sansa was more prepared this time around. She brought her own paper and pencils, the easel already provided. Jeyne squealed in excitement when her eyes landed on Sansa. She beckoned Sansa over, patting the seat beside her. Sansa politely moved past a couple of artists, absorbed in their conversations about art museums, and where they wanted to visit next.

She sat down next to Jeyne, placing her paper on the easel, and pencils in the cupholder. She had hardly any time to think when Jeyne grasped her hands, forcing Sansa to angle herself towards her.

"I'm so happy you are here. Gosh, have I told you how amazing you look lately?" Jeyne exclaimed, giving Sansa's hands a gentle squeeze.

Sansa knew Jeyne was trying to be polite. It still managed to feel like an underhand comment with the way Jeyne's eyes drifted every few seconds to the wine on the buffet table.

"Thanks, Jeyne. I'm glad I could make it."

Jeyne seemed to notice the way Sansa had tensed up and let go of her hands. She grabbed a pencil and began doodling.

"You really should come more often to these. Loras always picks the best models."

Sansa hummed with a nod. She did not doubt that Loras had a keen eye on picking models if Sandor was anyone to go by.

"Does he have some type of schedule for the models? Or is it always random?"

"He posts the schedule to his Instagram feed. Tonight it said Clegane. He doesn't use people's first names," she said with a shrug.

Sansa had no idea what Sandor's last name was. Kira's last name was Robison, so Sansa assumed Elena's was the same, even though she had noticed no ring on her hand. It was none of her business, to begin with.

Loras barged into the room, a glowing smile upon his face. He got onto the platform where the model would stand.

"Hello lovely people, how are you all doing?" He asked.

To Sansa, he reminded her of a puppy dog. He was eager to please. She remembered when she had been like that. She always wanted to make other people happy, to listen to their woes. She tended to put her happiness on the backburner. She rolled her eyes, not entirely sure why the guy grated on her nerves. He may have blonde hair and blue eyes, but he looked nothing like Joffrey. Where Joffrey was colder than ice, Loras held warmth to him, in the way he dressed, in the way he stood. He was like the sun, and yet, Sansa wanted to close the shades on him and keep him out of sight.

Instead of listening to what he had to say, she focused on ensuring her pencils were all sharpened, and that she hadn't forgotten the special eraser she had found at the craft store before coming here.

When she lifted her eyes again, she was taken aback to see that Sandor had taken his place and was already preparing to take his robe off. She swallowed hard, grabbing her pencil with a shaky hand. She didn't know if it was because she hadn't seen him without clothes for so long that she had forgotten just how big he was all over or if she had warred with herself not to remember such things. All she could say was that she had not been prepared to see all that tanned skin up close again. Had he gotten even larger? She could swear his biceps and shoulders had doubled in size. She couldn't be sure as her eyes raked over him from head to toe, eagerly, longingly. He was filled out in all the right places, a sturdy chest where she could easily plant her palms and ride him till she saw stars. His tapered waist that she could wrap her legs around, driving him deeper and deeper into her.

A loud sound ringing throughout the room tore her out of her naughty line of thinking. She then realized it had been her easel that crashed to the ground; all eyes pinpointed on her. She glanced up to see Loras hurrying over to her, but what really caught her attention was Sandor's eyes scanning over her face in recognition. She wanted to die. To curl up into a ball and never see the light of day again.

"We will take a ten-minute break," Loras announced, picking Sansa's easel off the ground. "Are you okay?"

Sansa's ears were burning, heart pounding as if she had just run ten miles. She could only nod hurriedly.

He glanced at her empty paper, a kind smile appearing on his face. "Is this your first time here?"

"No," she said meekly.

She hated how small she sounded. She was humiliated, though. She could tell people were whispering around her, all noticing a blank sheet of paper. A glance at the clock on the wall showed her they had been drawing for a good ten minutes. She had spent a full ten minutes, ogling him like a prize at the fair that she wanted to win. The blank paper felt like it had red arrows in flashing lights, all pointing at her that she was a perverted creep that came to these sessions just to stare at men.

"I'm Loras, and you are?"

"Sansa."

Loras was definitely a golden retriever if she had to say what kind of dog he was. He smiled happily; she could practically see his tail wagging.

"Don't worry. I sometimes get distracted when he's up there too." He gave her a wink that she didn't quite know what to make of.

"I'm not used to," she paused, "Drawing people," she finished lamely, wishing the earth would open up and eat her.

Loras laughed softly, nodding, seeming to understand what she was trying to say. "Once you start attending more of these sessions, you become more focused on the little details. Like capturing the intensity of an expression, the shading of the hair, the defining of the muscles. Eventually, you start to hardly even realize they are naked at all."

Sansa was on fire. She was sure of it. She just didn't understand why no one was trying to put it out. She giggled, but it came out high pitched and nervous, causing everyone to stare at her as if she were a lunatic.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She stood unceremoniously to her feet.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Sansa," Jeyne said through gritted teeth. "What are you doing?"

Sansa could tell Jeyne was embarrassed, but she had no clue the hell Sansa was currently going through. She couldn't stand everyone looking at her as if she didn't belong.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Loras, not even caring to grab her supplies. Instead, she grabbed her purse and began to hurry by people who gladly moved out of her way. They acted as if she were ridden with disease, and if they touched her, they would suffer the same fate.

She ran out of the room, not sparing Sandor a second glance. She wouldn't be able to handle seeing the disgust in his steely eyes. That would surely break her.

Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as she walked out into the unforgiving cold night. She shuffled to her car, trying not to have a full break down. She would recover from this unfortunate situation just like she had with everything else that went wrong in her life.

She could be strong.

She ended up crying over a tub of ice cream, knowing she would have to put a cold compress under her eyes to reduce the swelling.

She had to find it in herself just to keep moving forward. She may be so lonely that it killed her inside, but she would be okay.

Lady purred, twisting in and out between Sansa's legs. She picked the little furball into her arms and knew that yes, she would be just fine. She was loved, maybe not by humans, but Lady sure seemed to like her, and that was more than enough for the time being.

She dreaded seeing Elena and Kira tomorrow, but it was just another thing she'd have to deal with when it came to be.

She fell asleep to the sound of Lady' soft purrs hoping to all that was good that Sandor wouldn't even remember her racing out the door in embarrassment.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	3. Fools Rush In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all still enjoying this quick little story <3
> 
> Much love <3

**_Calling through the pines_ **   
**_Trembling on the vine_ **   
**_Breathing down your skin_ **   
**_Only fools rush in_ **

Sandor sat at his desk, drinking a cup of coffee. He stared at his sketchbook, where he had drawn at least thirty different versions of a small bird. Even before he signed up to be a model for life drawing sessions, he had always been fond of sketching and painting.

He had a sketchbook during his time as a marine, and it helped keep him sane, being able to manifest his grief into his work. After he was injured, he found that art helped him get through the worst of times. It was probably one of the main reasons why he even agreed to Bronn's suggestion of modeling. He liked to believe he was helping artists to improve their drawing skills. It made it worth it in the end.

He found that none of the artists ever judged him. Loras had shown him a few of the sketches done of him and was surprised to see that the artists drew him in a light he never saw himself in. They made him look handsome. Even with the scars, they emphasized features that he had never paid much attention to, and it had ended up boosting his confidence somewhat.

He would never believe himself all that attractive, though. Even before the scars, his features had always been too harsh and cutting. He was never the pretty boy type. The only thing that usually got him laid before getting wounded was his build. The girls would flock towards his friends, and occasionally one would be curious enough to give him a chance. He didn't let himself get hung up about it. He was never like his marine buddies who needed to get laid as much as possible. He'd rather get to know a girl a bit before diving right into sex.

Well, he wasn't being entirely honest. The moment he laid eyes on Sansa that first day at the life drawing session, he had seen the look in her big blue eyes, one that made him burn. At that time, he didn't care if he knew a single thing about her. All he wanted to do was see if she wanted to let him fuck her till the only name on her tongue was his.

Of course, he didn't. He put a lid on that train of thinking real fast and set to try to forget she even existed. It was easier said than done. She had looked at him in a way no woman had before, and it haunted him for months.

The moment he stepped into Kira's classroom and saw her again, he didn't even know how to act. So, he did what he did best and masked his emotions. She stumbled over her words, obviously recognizing him. It was fucking adorable how flustered she had gotten.

He had almost forgotten how beautiful she was with that vibrant red hair, lips made for kissing, and big blue eyes that showed exactly what she was feeling. She was a bit of an open book, and it was refreshing. He wasn't the best at telling how someone felt about him, but if the way she acted were anything to go off; he would say she did have some attraction to him.

He didn't see her after that day for almost a month. He sure heard about her, though. Elena and Kira were head over heels in love with her. Sansa had helped Kira learn how to add and subtract, which had been like pulling teeth for Elena when she tried to teach Kira before.

Kira would rave about all the arts and crafts they did, always beaming with pride as she showed off her creations. She ranted about Sansa playing hide and seek with all the children, and how she was always easy to find due to her bright red hair. From what he heard, Sandor gathered that Sansa was a genuine person with a big heart. He just wished he could muster the courage to ask her out.

He hadn't been expecting to see her at the life drawing session last night. He had hesitated in taking off his robe, but she had seemed so invested with rearranging her pencils that she didn't even notice him yet. He fumbled with the ties, hoping that no one noticed. He shrugged the robe off, setting to look anywhere but at Sansa.

He was so absorbed with the weird stain on the wall that the sound of something crashing startled him. He looked to see Sansa frozen in her spot, staring at the easel as if it had shunned her. When she peered over at him, he saw the distress painted on her face. She had become as red as her hair and quickly turned back to Loras, who had called for a break.

Sandor had put his robe back on, seeing her rapid deterioration into embarrassment as she and Loras talked. Suddenly, she stood, muttering an apology, and then she was moving past people with haste. Sandor wanted to go after her, but he didn't think it'd be appropriate chasing after a woman in only a robe.

He didn't know why she left. Sometimes people knocked down their easels, but they would apologize, and the class would move on. She acted as if she had been caught red-handed with the way she flew out of the room.

Loras announced he would be dismissing class for the night. People sighed and grumbled under their breaths as they left. Loras picked up Sansa's sketchbook and pencils, bringing them to the front. It was then that Sandor saw that during those ten minutes, Sansa hadn't drawn anything. He had been confused as to what she had been staring at the whole time. He didn't know what to make of it.

He had worked out extra hard that night, tormenting himself with all the possibilities as to why she didn't draw any part of him. Maybe she didn't like what she saw? Perhaps it was because he was an ugly bastard with one too many scars? He knew the sight of him could be off-putting. Still, maybe it could be the complete opposite of what he thought. Maybe she did like what she saw? Perhaps she enjoyed the sight of his body? Maybe she wanted to know what he could do-

He cut that thought off abruptly. He didn't need to get his hopes up only to face rejection.

He would ask her out for coffee, and if she declined, then he could move on. No harm, no foul.

∞

Sansa was glad that seeing Elena and Kira the next day was not as bad as she had been expecting. She was even able to put Sandor out of sight, out of mind for the rest of the school day. Once every kid was gone, she slumped into her chair and covered her face with her hands. She tried real hard to not reminisce on how much of a fool she had made of herself in front of everybody, but it was hard just to sweep it under the rug.

She didn't even want to know what Sandor thought of her. He probably thought she was some psycho stalker, and she wouldn't blame him. She should have just denied Jeyne's invitation. She would have been better off spending her night binge-watching re-runs of the office and eating to her heart's delight. She had let her desire take the reins, and it had gotten her into a world full of embarrassment. She would not be listening to it ever again.

A slight knock at the door caught her attention. She sighed, rather not be bothered while she was throwing a pity party for herself. Standing, she smoothed out her skirt and fixed her hair before moving to answer the door. She forced a smile on her face, opening the door only to be staring at a broad chest.

She instinctively took a step back, still holding the handle of the door in a death grip. She peered up through her lashes to see Sandor.

"Good afternoon ma'am, can I come in?" He asked. His voice was unlike any she had heard before. It was husky and so deep. Sansa could get off just by the sound of it.

Flushing from head to toe, she nodded, and opened the door wider, allowing him to step inside. She warred with leaving the door open or closed. She finally decided to leave it open just in case someone wondered why they were in a room alone together.

He wore denim jeans that hugged his ass just right. Sansa could hardly tear her gaze away from it, wondering how it would feel grasping onto, pushing him deeper inside of her. She forced her eyes away, eagerly trailing her gaze up the thick veins that raced through his forearm up to his bicep.

"You stare a lot."

Sansa startled out of her daydreaming. Butterflies were swarming in her stomach, and it felt like a bowling ball was stuck in her throat. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't even sure if he was just a mirage or actually standing in front of her. It seemed too coincidental that he was here. Did she pass out at her desk?

He chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets, his muscles rippling with the movement. She placed both hands on her stomach and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. I know it's rude, but it's been a habit I've had since I was a child. My mom hated it."

Sansa wanted to throw herself off a cliff. She had never known when to shut up. She stared too much, and when she was nervous, she tended to ramble on and on to the dismay of friends and family.

"I don't hate it, the staring I mean," he said, shoving a hand through his black hair until he realized it exposed his scars. He fixed it, pushing it to the left to hide them from view.

She wouldn't lie. The scars were gruesome. Yet, they did nothing to diminish how attractive she found him. She liked how manly he appeared from his rugged features to the evident strength of his body. He was nothing like the men she usually went for, and the awkward, shy way he held himself only made her want him that much more.

"You must think me rude or a stalker or something. I mean, I totally crashed that life drawing session, but I didn't know it would be you that night. Well, I had hoped it would be you, but I just thought I don't know. I was going to ask for your number, and then I made a fool of myself, and I just really find you hot, and I guess I wanted more than just your number, but that would be totally creepy-"

She shut up, realizing he had gone rigid in front of her. His veins stood on end, and she could see the way his jaw tightened. She didn't miss the tic that had started underneath his right eye.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head but still said nothing. They stood there, just staring at one another. It was making Sansa start to sweat, fretting nervously with the ties of her blouse.

"Want to get a coffee?" He rasped. His eyes had significantly darkened as they raked over her body. It wasn't done in a leering way meant to offend, not like the way Joffrey used to look at her. Sandor looked at her with a sort of awe and admiration in his gaze.

"My place is not far from here," she blurted, immediately regretting how desperate she sounded.

"Is that right?" He mused. His brow raised as he finally met her gaze again.

"I mean, if you _want_ to come over," she trailed off, shoving a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

He took a step towards her. "You don't know me."

"I know." She bit at her bottom lip and peered up at him, hoping he didn't think she was always this easy.

Another step forward brought him close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. All she had to do was move forward, and her chest would be pressed up against him.

"Why do you want me to go over to your place?"

She wanted him to fuck her. Was it not obvious?

"I have coffee there," she stammered.

"So, you want to make me coffee?"

"Yes."

"Is that all?" He peered down at her with a smirk played out on his lips.

"Are you teasing me?" She asked with a little huff of frustration.

"You blush so pretty, I like it," he murmured. He reached up, cradling her jaw. She jumped a little, gasping at how massive his hand was. It covered the entire side of her face with ease. His touch warm as his thumb stroked over her cheekbone.

As if not entirely sure why he touched her or said what he did, he promptly let go of her and dropped his hand back to his side with a mumbled apology.

Sansa wanted him never to stop touching her. She liked how rough his hands had felt against her skin. They were the hands of a man; nothing like Joffrey's that had been soft, proving he hadn't worked a single day in his life.

"Are you sure you want me to go over?" He shoved his hand back into his pocket as if to prevent himself from touching her further.

"Yes," she breathed. The butterflies more like a swarm of bees inside her stomach now.

"I can meet you there. What's your address?"

She told him, her voice trembling the entire time, but he didn't seem to care. He merely nodded, and left, leaving her there reeling.

She speedily cleaned up the classroom and locked the door behind her. She hadn't shaved in a dang week, and now she was regretting such a decision. She wasn't entirely sure she was about to get what she wanted, but she sure hoped that it was about to have a happy ending.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	4. Trouble I'm In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took forever to write this because I kept rereading it and hatinggg it.
> 
> Anyways, I finally decided to get over my anxiety, and am ready to post it. I'm sorry if it sucks lol But it's the best my brain could conjure up.
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Much love <3

**_I wanna feel your touch_ **   
**_It's burning me like an ember_ **   
**_Pretending is not enough_ **   
**_I wanna feel us together_ **   
**_So I'm giving in_ **   
**_To the trouble I'm in_ **

Sandor stood outside of Sansa's place, staring at the small one-story house, white picket fence, and all. An array of flowers surrounded her wraparound porch, the steps daunting to him now that he was here.

Her Volkswagen bug was parked on her driveway, putting the nail in the coffin that she was home. He could run now, and apologize profusely the next time he saw her. He would never be able to look her in the eye ever again. However, still, he wouldn't have to face the both terrifying and exhilarating situation he was currently in.

His nerves were going haywire, and his hands trembled so bad he had to shove them in his pockets. This kind of thing just didn't happen to him; women as pretty as Sansa admired his body but couldn't handle his face. He couldn't blame them, and he resided to not take it personally.

The thing was Sansa had never shied away from looking at his face. Not once had she looked at him with a single shred of fear or disgust. No, instead, there was a hunger in her eyes that contrasted with her shy demeanor.

He had honestly wanted to get a cup of coffee with her. Yet, the moment she invited him to her place, all thoughts of keeping it casual flew out the window. He saw the need in her eyes, and he wasn't about to deny her whatever she wanted from him.

He ascended the stairs, trying to keep his wits about him, and not let his dick do all the talking. If she genuinely wanted him over for a cup of coffee, he would be perfectly fine with that. He prided himself on being a gentleman through and through. No matter how hard up he may be, he liked his women eager and willing. He had never been one to take advantage, and he wasn't about to start now.

He rang the doorbell, hearing the chime sound throughout the house. He didn't have to wait long for Sansa to whip open the door. She seemed breathless as she tilted her head back to look him in the eye.

Per usual, her blue eyes wandered all over him as if he couldn't see her blatantly checking him out. He noticed her hand clenching around the door frame, holding so tight her knuckles had bled into white.

"You going to stare all day or invite me inside?" He said in a teasing tone. He loved watching the flush creep up her neck, settling high in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"You apologize too much. You have nothing to be sorry about," he grumbled, mesmerized by the way her teeth tugged at her bottom lip.

He had always been curious about what an honest to god kiss would feel like. When he was a teenager, he had shared a few quick kisses on the lips with a couple of girls, as an adult kissing had been far and few.

_Now, he was the one staring._

"You can come in," she stuttered. She stepped out of the way, allowing him to walk inside. The door shut quietly behind him. "Um, did you want that coffee?"

She walked past him, and as any other red-blooded male would, he watched the sway of her hips, enjoying her slight curves. He followed her into the kitchen, taking in the wooden cabinets and marble counters. There were a couple of vases filled with fresh flowers making the room smell amazing.

She turned on her coffee maker as he leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. She grabbed a mug out of the overhead cabinet, setting it down, but she didn't turn to face him. He watched as she grasped onto the edges of the counter, and he could hear her shuddering breaths on every exhale.

"Kira likes you," he said, trying to ease the apparent tension building in the room.

She spun around a tight smile on her face. "She is a joy to teach."

"Elena couldn't stop raving about you. It was tough on her when Kira had trouble learning numbers. You really helped her out. So, thanks."

Sansa's smile morphed into a radiant one that met her eyes. "I'm glad I could help. Every child is unique. It's all about finding their strengths to help improve in subjects they're not as fond of."

"Well, your method is working." He watched her blush deepen. She nervously tucked a strand behind her ear, opening her mouth and closing it, unable to vocalize what she was about to say.

The coffeemaker dinged, and Sansa grabbed the mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

"Did you want creamer or sugar?"

"No, thank you."

She carefully walked over to him, and when she handed the mug over, their fingers touched briefly. It sent a spark through him, and she obviously had felt it too with the way she hastily stepped back.

Sandor set the mug on the counter, staring down at her. She was so fucking pretty. It was difficult not to look at her.

"Sansa, why am I here?" He questioned, wanting to know her reasons.

Sansa bit at her bottom lip, and shrugged, having trouble maintaining eye contact with him. She didn't respond, choosing to stare at the ground, remaining silent.

"You don't know?" He challenged, taking a step forward.

He reached out and gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She shivered at his touch, peering up at him through long lashes.

"I invited you over for a cup of coffee," she stated softly.

He nodded, fingertips tracing the shape of her jawline. He slid his hand to the side of her neck, able to feel her lively pulse. His other hand came up, mirroring the first and drew her closer to him. She blew out a breath of air, grasping onto the front of his shirt to steady herself.

"Is that what you wanted? To make me a cup of coffee?" He hungrily took in her every feature. From her big blue eyes to the shape of her brows, and the freckles that danced over her nose. She had the most enticing set of lips, a perfect cupid's bow that begged for him to _take, take, and take_.

He shoved his desires to the side, reveling in the way her cheeks filled with color. He wanted to know if she blushed all over her body.

"Sandor, I'm not good at this kind of thing." She darted her eyes off to the side and fidgeted under his touch.

He understood her trepidation. He would test the waters, and if it wasn't what she wanted, he would back off. Both her hands clutched his shirt right at his chest, allowing him to settle his left hand on her waist. She was a tiny thing compared to him. He was double her size in height and weight, yet it did nothing to scare her off. He admired that about her.

Sansa still refused to meet his eyes, but she didn't have to for what he was about to do next. His hand curled in the back of her hair and gently tugged her head back, giving him easy access to her neck. He bent forward, grazing his lips up the length of her neck, and reveled in the small noise that escaped her lips. He sucked a soft kiss into the skin behind her ear and felt her swift wisps of breath against his cheek.

He pulled back to gauge her reaction, drawing a sharp intake of air at the need shining in her eyes. His hand tightened involuntarily in her hair, hearing her audible swallow.

"That expression could bring a man to his knees," he rasped.

"Sandor," she breathed.

"When you say my name like that, it makes me wonder if you brought me over for not so innocent of reasons." A smirk flickered upon his lips at the frustrated huff she emitted.

"You're teasing me again."

"Just trying to figure out your intentions," he said, wrapping his arm around the small of her back. He gently coaxed her forward until there was no space between them. He felt her thighs pressing into his, she was too short for them to be hip to hip, but his cock seemed happy enough, pushed up against her stomach.

"Is it not obvious?"

"I've never been good at picking up on signals."

"I invited you over."

"For coffee," he reminded, abandoning her hair to cup her jaw.

"That was just a cover for what I really wanted."

He ran the pad of his thumb back and forth over her cheek. "And what is it you really wanted?"

"Are you going to force me to say it?" There was a look of barely concealed annoyance on her face now.

"I'm not going to force you to say anything. I guess I just wanted to hear you say it, make sure that I'm not reading into things that don't exist."

His thumb glazed over her bottom lip, unable to resist finding out how soft they were. Her lips parted at the touch, and before he could even understand what was going on, her tongue darted out and licked him. It was all he needed to know that they both craved the same thing.

He released a shaky breath, and slipped his thumb past her lips, skimming over her teeth until he felt her tongue. Her lips closed around the digit and sucked all while staring him straight in the eye.

It was the hottest thing he had ever experienced. He wasn't used to a woman staring so ardently at him. It made his blood run hot, and he had to force himself to breathe, so he didn't pass out right then and there.

A predatory excitement began to arise in him, an instinct as old as time to claim her. He strived to keep a level head, but she was stirring things up in him that he had never felt before. A hunger like no other had taken hold of him, and he couldn't break from its grasp.

He tugged his thumb out of her mouth, the pop sound making him dizzy. He grasped her jaw, startling her. He didn't miss the trace of fear that flashed in her eyes.

"I won't hurt you." He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. "I would never hurt you," he reiterated, feeling her nervous breaths hitting his lips.

"I want you inside me," she whispered.

He groaned, pulling his head back a mere inch to stare at the lips that had just formed such words. They were words that hit him straight in the gut and tested his self-control.

"You want me inside you? Is that what you wanted from the start? To have me fucking you hard and deep?" His voice came out in a breathy growl, sounding nothing like him.

"Yes, _yes_ , I need it," she gasped, pressing up on her tiptoes, lips so close to his.

"You fucking need it? Say it, little bird, say what you need?" His hand clenched around her jaw, his fingers digging in, but she didn't even flinch.

"I need you inside me, _please_." The words were murmured against his lips, and all he had to do was press back, but something in him wanted to tease her. He wanted her begging for him. He wanted her so fucking wet that he could see it dripping down her thighs. He let go of her jaw, dropping his hand to join the other on the opposite side of her waist.

He turned them around, and pushed her backward, seeing her wince when the counter dug into her back. He muttered an apology and lifted her to where she sat upon the counter. They were face to face, now, and he couldn't help chuckling at the wanton expression upon her face.

"You should see your face, Sansa. I didn't know someone so pretty could look at a monster so fondly."

Her brows furrowed, and her mouth turned into a slight pout. "You're not a monster."

He grabbed her knees, spreading her legs to allow him to settle in between them. He didn't miss the way her skirt hiked up when she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her ankles locked at the small of his back, tugging him closer. He was at the perfect height to feel her warmth through the fabric of his jeans. Her eyes widened at finally feeling his desire pressed right against the spot he was desperate to fuck into. If he looked down now, he would see those pretty thighs, and that would throw him off of his initial goal to make her the wettest she's ever been. 

Instead, he grasped the sides of her neck and brushed his lips chastely against hers. She let out a heady moan, her legs tightening around him. "You don't know me. You don't know if I'm a monster or not."

"Sandor, you're _not_ a monster," she protested.

His right hand abandoned her neck to trail his fingertips down to her collarbone, mindlessly tracing back and forth over the curve and shape of it. His other hand cupped her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. She arched into him on a choked moan, and he groaned in return against her lips.

His hand was too large for her to fit perfectly in his palm, but it was no bother to him. He liked Sansa just the way she was, and wouldn't change a single thing about her.

His thumb teased her nipple until it was hard, pressing through her bra and blouse. His other hand moved to where it was on her throat, applying minimal pressure.

"I've done some terrible things," he muttered, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her yelp. He didn't apologize this time around. He grasped the ends of her blouse, understanding flashing in her eyes, and she lifted her arms. He tugged her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the side, and didn't hesitate in tugging the cup of her bra down. His mouth enclosed around her nipple, soothing the pain he had inflicted.

"Sandor, oh, god," she whimpered, her hands threading through his hair, tugging at it.

He rocked against her, both of them letting out strangled sounds at the overwhelming feeling. He made the mistake of looking down and saw her pale thighs quivering around him. She had freckles fucking everywhere, and it was enough to drive him insane. He turned his attention back to her breasts, removing the damned material that kept them from his sight.

Her skin was like the most beautiful porcelain. It did things to him to see the contrasts of their skin colors. Her nipples were a soft pink color, surrounded by a color a couple of shades darker than her skin. Her chest heaved up and down as she waited for what he would do next.

His eyes were drawn lower to her stomach. The waistband of her skirt looked as if it were barely clinging onto her. Her ribs stuck out slightly, and he could see the faint trace of stretch marks down her sides.

He gently traced the stretch marks, feeling her go rigid beneath him. Her arms came up to cover her breasts from his view, and he witnessed that she did flush red everywhere. Her ankles unlocked from his hips and fell unceremoniously against the cabinets below.

"Hey," he murmured, cupping her jaw with both hands, forcing her to look at him. She reluctantly met his gaze, and he saw the embarrassment in her blue eyes. "You're fucking beautiful, Sansa."

"I didn't use to have them, but I lost a lot of weight, and then when I gained some of it back, my body couldn't take it. I know I'm too skinny and not curvy enough, but I'm trying to-"

He crushed his lips against hers, successfully shutting her up from saying anything more self-deprecating about herself. He wouldn't hear such nonsense. Sansa was beautiful in every fucking way, and he'd be damned if she thought otherwise.

"You're perfect," he growled.

Her eyes widened, and then it was like the dam finally broke, and she was smashing her lips against his. He surrendered to the need coursing through him, allowing him to get swept into the tide that was Sansa Stark.

Her lips enclosed on his bottom lip, giving it a hard suck. It tore an animalistic sound out of him, and he couldn't resist rocking against hers, seeking the warmth that was between her legs.

Her leg came up around his hip, her heel digging into the small of his back as she ground against his hardened length.

He angled her head to deepen the kiss, sucking on the shape of her sensitive flesh. Her nails were digging into his upper back, and it made him realize she was practically half-naked, where he was fully clothed. He wanted to feel her skin against skin, feel the way her nipples would brush against his chest. He pulled back, earning a whine in response, her hands cradling his face, guiding his face back to her. Her tongue licked across his lips, a silent demand.

"Fuck, woman, you'll be the death of me," he grunted, grasping the back of his shirt with one hand. She let go of him long enough for him to pull it up and over his head. It joined the pile of clothes discarded carelessly on the floor. Her hands clamped down on his face, and he had no time to think as she licked and sucked at his lips.

The moment he parted his lips, and her tongue delved inside; he was done for. He didn't care about anything else but taking all she would give him. She held the back of his neck, his arms wrapping around her waist, holding her impossibly close. He was drowning in the push and pull of their tongues. The quickening pace of their lips moving together in a needy mess had him hard as stone. His cock pressed insistently against her, grinding into a spot that made her keen into him. Her thighs cradled his hips, assisting his rocking.

He was fucking dry humping her like a teenager, but he had never been kissed like this. He didn't ever want to stop. As long as her lips were pressed against his, maybe he wouldn't feel like he was constantly suffocating. Perhaps she could breathe life back into him, and make him realize there was a reason to wake up each and every day. After everything he had seen, after everything he had done, he didn't deserve to be held so tightly by a woman as pure as Sansa. But she made him feel like he wasn't the terrible person he believed himself to be.

They broke away panting, her hands sliding to his chest, tugging gently at the hair that covered it. He touched his forehead to hers, her legs twitched around his waist, and he chuckled softly.

"We should wait," he murmured.

"I don't think I can," she replied instantly.

He straightened, seeing that her pupils had swallowed up some of the blue in her eyes. His gaze wandered down to her heaving chest, and further down to her skirt. It was hiked up to the point he could see her white panties soaked through. It was impossible to tear his attention away from such a glorious sight.

His fingertips trembled as he brought them to the edge of her panties. He could see her slickened folds through the material, begging to be touched.

"I just don't want you to think this is all I want." 

"What do you mean?" Her eyes pinpointed to where he traced the outside of her panties.

"I'd like to say I'm old fashioned. I wanted to take you out on a proper date, but when you asked me over, I didn't want to say no. Now here you are, letting me kiss you, and touch you, and I don't want just to fuck and never see you again."

He didn't want to scare her off, but he felt something for her that he had never felt with prior women. Ever since that first time he saw her, he knew there was something different about her. She wasn't afraid of him, and that was new for him. He liked how shy she could be, and in the next moment, be so full of fire. He wouldn't mind her talking his ear off like the little bird she was, constantly chirping. He found himself enjoying her ramblings, unlike others who always managed to irritate him by talking too much.

"You don't want this to be a one-time thing?" Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"No, is that what you want?"

"No," she breathed, searching his face for any signs of deception.

"Good, that's good," he murmured. He gave in to his baser instincts, slipping his fingertips through her clothed folds, and found out just how wet she was for him.

Her head fell back against the cabinet with a hard thunk, startling him.

"Shit, are you okay?" He reached up, grasping the nape of her neck.

"F-fine, please, I'm begging you, need-need you inside," she panted. She grasped the tops of her panties, lifting her hips, and shoved them down to her thighs. He was greeted by pink flesh, a tuft of red hair upon her mound, and glistening folds. He took a few steps back from her, shoving his hands into his hair. He could only watch as she breathed hard, pushing the material past her knees, letting them fall to the ground. She leaned back, spreading her thighs for him.

It was a clear invitation.

He palmed his cock currently straining painfully against the denim of his jeans. "Sansa, you don't know what you're asking for."

"I'm sure I do," she said through gritted teeth.

He released a harsh breath and advanced towards her. He was between her legs, tongue inside her mouth before either of them could process it. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, lifting her effortlessly off the counter. She scrambled to wrap her legs around his waist. He walked into what must have been her dining room, gently splaying her out on the wooden table.

"Sandor, wait…what are you doing?"

He took a seat before her, grasping behind her knees, and shoved her thighs against her chest.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He raised a brow at her, a half-smile upon his face.

"You don't have to-"

"Enough chirping, little bird. The next thing I want to hear out of your mouth is you screaming my name."

Before she could say another word, he lowered his head and licked a hot strip through her folds up to her clit. She cried out, her head falling back onto the table. He had always been pretty good at getting girls off with his tongue. If he was good at anything sexually, this was high on his list.

He didn't think Sansa had one flaw as he swirled his tongue around her clit, reveling in the way her thighs shook. She tasted so sweet, writhing beneath his ministrations, small whines escaping past her lips. He enclosed his lips around the tight bud, sucking hard enough to make a shudder roll through her body. He flicked his tongue out to soothe the ache, and her hips bucked, a silent plea to give her more.

He growled into her flesh, nipping at her clit, and brought a finger to where she was drenched. He teased her entrance in slow, teasing circles. She let out a huff of air, signaling she was getting both restless and annoyed. He pressed a kiss to her clit, making her gasp, and started to sink his middle finger into her core. Her heels landed hard on the table, a moan tumbling out of her mouth as her inner muscles gave way to his intrusion.

"So tight," he muttered, obsessed with the way she clenched around his finger. He had never had a cunt be so wet for him, and Gods, she was the tightest he'd ever felt. He moved the one finger in and out of her, curling, and massaging in languid motions.

She whimpered, rocking against his finger, shoving it that much deeper inside her. His cock was impossibly hard, the confinement of his jeans starting to hurt. He couldn't take it anymore; with his free hand, he tore at his belt to give his cock some much needed space. He managed to get his belt undone, quickly unbuttoning his pants, and shoved his hand inside, repositioning himself. It was an immediate relief to have his cock in hand; he gripped it hard and gave it a tentative stroke.

Sansa seemed to notice what he was doing; her eyes alighting with something he couldn't quite decipher. Suddenly, she was pulling away from him and getting off the table. His hand fell back to his side, not quite sure what was going on.

He didn't have to wait long to figure out what she was up to. She seized his hand, and he stood to his feet. She directed him to a different room with a television and couch. He was shoved on said couch, unable to finish taking in his surroundings. Sansa's hands came down upon his shoulders as she placed her knees on either side of him, hovering above him.

"Take your cock out," she whispered, pressing her lips to his scarred cheek. He jolted, not because he could feel her lips there, but because nobody had ever touched his scars in such a way.

With trembling hands, he unzipped his pants and opened them enough to pull his cock out. Her eyes drooped to half-mast, mouth parting as she took in what he had to offer. He knew he was bigger than most guys', but he had never been one to gloat about it.

"Are you clean?" She asked, lifting her eyes to his.

"Yes," he rasped.

"Me too." Her hand wrapped around his cock, making his skin throb. He was pulsating with too much energy, his heart hammering in his chest.

She lowered her hips, guiding the tip of his cock right to her wet opening. His hands slammed down on her waist, halting her downward movement entirely.

"Wait, fucking wait," he growled.

She shook her head, whimpering with a pleading look in her eyes. Her hand squeezed around him, making his breath quicken. His hold weakened upon her, allowing her to sink just the head inside. He didn't miss the grimace upon her face.

"You don't have to do this," he said. His jaw clenching so hard he worried he was about to break a tooth.

"I've felt so empty," she hummed, sinking another inch inside. "I've been aching for so long, never knowing how it felt to be filled to the hilt, where I can barely breathe because I'm too full." Another inch, her cheek grazing against his as her teeth nipped at his earlobe. "I'm not sure if you'll fit, and it's going to hurt, but I need that, I need the pain."

His breathing had become ragged as he watched her stretching impossibly wide around his cock. He had always worn a condom with other women, never wanting to take the unnecessary risk of no protection. With Sansa, he was throwing caution to the wind, and he could care less about the consequences of such a decision.

He clutched her hips, gently rocking up into her needing to fill her up entirely. She was so warm and snug around him, it was almost too much to handle. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, and on a deep breath, she surged down on his cock. He hadn't been expecting her to bottom out, and it made stars explode behind his eyes. He didn't miss her pained moan and tried his best to clear his head so he could comfort her.

He raced his palms up and down her back. He tried his best to soothe her as his cock throbbed inside her. She was so wet, but it didn't seem to lessen the sting. They sat there for what felt like forever until she began tentatively moving her hips. Her entire body vibrated as she found a rhythm, rocking back and forth on his length. He let her take what she desired from him, watching as her eyes fluttered closed, feeling her hands clutch his shoulders, guiding her needy movements.

He could tell she was already on the brink of coming with the way her features scrunched up. It was an incredible sight to behold. It was unlike anything he had seen before. Her mouth fell open as she rocked harder and harder, taking him deeper on every stroke. Her cunt squeezed him so hard, and he almost blacked out. He came to his senses, seeing her above him looking like a fucking goddess.

"Such a good girl, using my cock like your personal fuck toy," he rasped, watching her tits bounce.

She merely whimpered and started riding him that much harder.

"Is this what you imagined when you first saw me? Huh? Wanted to shove me on the ground and fuck yourself on my cock?"

"Yes!"

"Are you going to come for me, little bird?" He gripped her hips in a vice hold, urging her frantic movements.

She nodded, a soft sob escaping her lips. He was unprepared for tears to start to spill down her cheeks, landing on his chest. She clutched his dog tags and crashed over the edge on a silent cry, his name a whisper on her lips. She sagged into him, her entire body shaking.

_Great, he had gone and made the girl cry._

"Fuck, Sansa, what the fuck did I do?" He panted, holding her face in his palms, brushing her tears away.

His cock was still buried inside her, but it couldn't stay hard with a crying girl upon his lap.

He wasn't able to say anything else, her lips covered his, and he could feel the desperation in her kiss.

"Come in me," she urged. "I'm on the pill."

"I can't. Not when you're crying. What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He searched her eyes, but could only see the tears glistening in them.

"No, no, you didn't hurt me. It just felt so good, Sandor."

"You're crying, Sansa."

She wiped at her tears with one hand, the other fiddling with his tags. She straightened while he was still rooted deep inside her, and his cock thought that was a good sign that everything was fine. He could feel himself already growing inside her, and he didn't miss the slight discomfort on her face.

"I'm hurting you."

She shook her head and ran her thumb over his name on his tags. "No, you're just huge. I'm not used to it yet."

He chuckled, but it was more of a pained sound. "Dammit, Sansa, what are you doing to me?"

"Hopefully, I'm enticing you to keep fucking me."

A low growl escaped his chest, and he wasted no time in grasping her ass in both palms, standing to his feet. She encircled her arms around his neck, emitting a surprised sound. He slipped out of her, but he didn't care, he'd be back inside her soon enough.

He made his way back to the dining room, pressing rough kisses to the side of her neck as he went. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck, and he relished the sting that accompanied it. He didn't give her much time to think as he laid her on the table once again. A shocked look crossed her face as her back connected with the wood beneath her. The table the perfect height for him to do what he wanted to her. He would let her know that she sure knew how to pick a table after he finished making her scream his name.

He leaned over her circling his tongue around her areola before latching onto her nipple.

She released a breathy gasp, her hands fisting into his hair as she writhed beneath his ministrations. He sucked harder, a loud whimper escaping from her lungs as her back arched off the table. He switched to her other breast, nipping and sucking to the point he knew he was going to leave a mark. If her moans were anything to go off of, he didn't think she would mind all that much.

Her hand fisting around his cock caused him to freeze, his entire body tightening at the touch. He had been so lost in the haze of her pleasure he had forgotten about his own. He dropped his forehead to her chest and let out a shuddering breath as she began to stroke him in a tantalizing manner. Her thumb wiped over the head, gathering the moisture upon it, and used it to aid her strokes. He couldn't stop from rocking into her hand, needing the sweet release only she could provide him.

"Sandor, please." Her shaky whisper pulled him out of the trance she had put him in. Her heels dug into his lower back, urging him closer to her juncture. He replaced her hand with his own, realizing he was trembling. His breaths were heavy as he guided his cock back to where she was wet and willing. With one even thrust of his hips, he became fully immersed inside her tight heat. It managed to make him whimper, embarrassment heating his skin. He smashed his face into her neck, unable to believe he had made such a humiliating sound.

He felt her hands pushing his hair off his face, cradling his jaw, applying pressure that implied for him to raise his head. Slowly he pulled back only for her to pull his mouth to hers. Her lips moved enticingly against his until he finally caught up, and reciprocated the kiss. He gently started to rock into her, swiveling his hips in a way that only intensified the pressure around his cock.

It all felt so fucking good. She was warm and soft, clenching and unclenching around him to the point of madness. He shallowly thrust inside of her, trying desperately to stave off his impending climax. It didn't seem as if she agreed with his slow, drawn-out movements with the way she tugged at his hair, her tongue passionately moving against his own. A needy moan tore from her, and it was the final straw in his self-control.

He hooked both his hands to the underside of her knees, forcing her to untangle from around his hips. He folded her legs up, the position allowing him to reach further inside her. The way her face contorted into agonized bliss proved it was the right move. He began a relentless pace; his thrusts were hard and merciless. She cried out, her nails clawing at the table as she writhed beneath him.

He hit a spot inside her and watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. If he wasn't so close to the edge, he might have even teased her for it, but he could only focus on getting them both where they needed to be. 

"I'm close, _so close_ ," she whined.

A jagged growl ripped out of him, and he hammered into her with a force he didn't even know he possessed.

He felt the pressure building and building at the base of his spine. His balls had grown so tight that it had become painful. He had staved off his release long enough, and now his body was demanding him to give the fuck in. 

Her walls fluttered around his cock, and with a blinding pressure clamped down around him. He finally got what he wanted, her screaming his name to the high heavens. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, and he was unable to stop himself from chasing his release. His thrusts became erratic and jerky, causing her breath to hitch with every plunge inward.

His release washed over him almost violently, shocking him as it tore a mixture of a snarl, and whimper out of him. He breathed raggedly, grinding into her instinctively, wringing out all of his pleasure until he pulled out. He watched his cum slip out of her, and groaned at the sight, wrapping her legs back around his waist. He quickly took her jaw in his hands and smashed their lips together. The kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue; the only way he could communicate how much he had enjoyed what happened between them, unable to form words just yet.

When they came up for air, a beautiful giggle escaped her. "Did that really just happen?"

"Yeah, it did," he muttered, a lazy smile crawling upon his face. He could tell the table had become uncomfortable for her and lifted her into his arms. She laid her cheek upon his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

"My bedroom is around the corner," she yawned and held him tight with both her arms and legs.

He found his way to her bedroom, yanking the covers down so they both could crawl beneath them. He lay on his back, and she nuzzled into his side.

He had never just slept in a bed with a woman. Usually, he would fuck and be on his merry way. But he didn't want to do that with Sansa. If she was allowing him to stay, he wasn't about to run out the door. He wasn't lying about wanting more than just sex with her. Of course, the sex had been fucking mind-blowing; he wasn't going to complain that it happened. Their instant chemistry wasn't one that could easily be overlooked. Still, he would like to take her out on a proper date and get to know her.

"Thank you, Sandor," she sleepily hummed.

"For what?" He chuckled, stroking her shoulder.

"For giving me the best sex of my life."

"Is that all I'm good for?" He teased, but his tone suggested that it was a serious question.

She sat up, looking him straight in the eye. "No, but it's a good start to whatever this may be."

She nibbled at her bottom lip, a nervous tic he had come to learn. He cupped the side of her neck and tugged her to meet his lips. It was tender and chaste. "I want to be with you, little bird. I want to get to know you if you'll have me."

Her lips quirked up. "Yes, I'll have you…Sandor."

It was all he needed to hear. He pulled her back into his arms and allowed exhaustion to pull him under.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for the love and support!
> 
> XOXO


	5. Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know I've taken forever to write this chapter, but I hope you all are still with me :)
> 
> I just want to say thanks to everybody who has continued to support me. Hopefully, this chapter doesn't disappoint. 
> 
> Also, this chapter will deal with difficult themes and I just want to forewarn that it may have some triggering effects.
> 
> Much love <3

_**Heaven is a place I cannot see**  
**When I'm beside you it's so close to me**  
**These are the reasons you should stay**  
**There is so much that you can give**  
_

_The walls were closing in; the darkness creeping into every part of his being. Fear clawed at his throat as the booming sounds exploded all around him; dust clouding his vision. He yelled for his comrade, stumbling through the debris, his ears ringing, leaving him entirely disoriented. Sandor knew he was wounded, the pain at his side signaling he had cracked a few ribs with how hard the explosion had thrown him. He searched desperately under fallen objects for his comrade, but there was no sign of him. Sandor caught sight of red hair in the distance, a sense of joy poured over him, and in that very moment, he was blindsided by the landmine he stepped on in his attempt to run towards his friend. He barely had a second to back away before searing pain raced through him and he-_

Sandor woke on a startled gasp, sitting up abruptly covered in a cold sweat. His heart pounded frantically, and his entire body trembled as he placed his hand on his chest, trying to calm himself down.

"Sandor?" Sansa whispered in the dark. He heard rustling, and the room became bathed in a warm hue.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he replied, his heart still not getting the memo to settle down.

Sansa sat up, shifting closer to him, placing a warm palm upon his shoulder. His eyes drifted closed, hand falling away from his chest as her touch comforted him. He clasped his hand atop hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

He had never talked much about his time in the military with anybody but Bronn. Even his mom and sister hardly knew about the nitty-gritty details of his life as a Marine or the damage that occurred to him on the outside and inside. Yet, Sansa made him feel like he could tell her anything without the worry of being judged. He found that he trusted her even though he could hardly say he knew her.

The first step to getting to know her would be to be completely honest with her about everything. He didn't want to hide away due to fearing the outcome. He could see himself falling in love with Sansa. It was something he hardly thought of, but he felt this deep connection to her, and he wasn't about to let her go now.

"It was one of my recurring nightmares. I hardly get a good night's sleep because of them."

Sansa pressed a kiss to his knuckles giving him the courage to continue.

"The day I received these burns was the same day I lost my best friend. It was chaos. I couldn't see anything. Explosions were going off in every direction, and I swore I saw him a mile from me. I started running towards him and stepped on a landmine and barely made it out alive. The only reason I didn't lose any limbs was due to it having some sort of malfunction that allowed me to back off, but moments later, all I felt was extreme pain before I passed out. I don't understand why I made it out alive, and my friend didn't. We were practically glued at the hip, and then he was gone. It's been ten years since then, and it still haunts me. I can live with the scars, but I can't live with the fact I lived, and he didn't."

Sandor swallowed through the lump that had formed in his throat after disclosing such information. He could hardly believe he made it through without stuttering or stopping. The warmth upon his shoulder, the only courage he had to keep going even though it pained him to remember such a dark time.

"I know whatever I have to say won't mean much, but I want you to know that I am so thankful you had the strength to tell me about such a difficult aspect of your life. You lost a friend, and that pain is something people can't comprehend unless they have experienced the same. I can hardly say I understand what you went through in the Marine Corps, but I know you are so brave and so full of heart that your friend would have wanted nothing more than to see you alive and happy and thriving after going through what you did. You are a beautiful man, Sandor."

Sansa's words trailed off towards the end, and he felt her nuzzling his neck a moment later. "Where did you come from?" Sandor laughed softly, feeling a newfound emotion in his chest. Sansa may not think her words meant anything, but to him, it meant the world. He didn't want someone to pity him or to apologize for something entirely out of their hands.

Sansa had said the perfect thing without even trying. He could hardly agree with her about him being beautiful. Still, the way she looked at him made him think that in her eyes, he was this attractive, brave man that was worth her love and affection.

Sansa let out a laugh that was so angelic Sandor swore she was heaven sent no matter how cheesy it sounded in his head. "I'm sure I'm from earth," she joked, pressing a tender kiss to the skin between his neck and shoulder.

"I guess I'm just not used to a woman as pretty and intelligent as you being interested in a guy like me."

Sansa scoffed. "What do you mean, a guy like you?"

"I just mean, even before the scars, I wasn't much of a looker. Women tended to avoid me at all costs. I was always too intimidating, too much, too harsh looking. I don't smile much, so, that never helped me either. I guess I'm just trying to understand why you don't seem to give a shit that I'm littered in scars, and my face is a mess. Even the women that gave me a chance could hardly look me in the eye. You've never shied away from my gaze. I'm not used to it."

Sandor wasn't prepared for Sansa to move atop him, pressing him back into the sheets until his head hit the pillow. She cradled his hips with her thighs and placed her palms upon his chest, gazing down at him with a kind smile.

"Are you asking me to stroke your ego, Sandor?" she said teasingly, trailing her fingertips over the scarring on the side of his neck.

"I'm not sure I have much of an ego," he grunted. 

"You should. You're the most handsome man I've ever laid my eyes on."

Sandor's breath hitched at her words. Never in his life did he think anyone would ever say that to him. His heart started to pound as she toyed with the chain of his dog tags, and she leaned down to press a chaste kiss upon his lips. She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze.

"Your scars are just another part of you that makes you beautiful. I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Sandor. I worried that I would never see you again or that you would hardly want me back if I did. Let me cherish you, okay?"

Sandor cupped the back of her head. "I'll give you every part of me, Sansa. Whatever you want, just ask," he whispered before pressing his lips against hers. She sighed into the kiss, her hands reaching up to grasp either side of his neck. She worked her lips against his, a soft exchange that tugged at his heart. He had never been in a serious relationship before. He had never even had a girlfriend. He didn't know how to date or what to do to give Sansa everything she deserved. Even though he was practically a green boy in that sense, he would sure as hell try to deliver her the fucking world.

He fisted her curls, parting her lips roughly with his tongue, earning a moan in return as he slipped inside her mouth with the need to taste her. He groaned when she sucked hard on his tongue before moving her lips against his own in a rhythm meant to drive him mad.

The kiss turned hungry and urgent in a matter of seconds. He needed her with every fiber of his being. This kind of lust, desire, innate want was never something he allowed himself to feel, and she was only fanning the flame within him that begged him to give up and let her take every part of him for herself. He doesn't know whether it was a minute or an hour before they break the kiss, panting into the limited space between their lips.

"Your heart is beating so fast," Sansa murmured, her palm placed directly upon where his heart raced.

"I guess that's what happens when a pretty woman is on top of me kissing me within an inch of my life," he chuckled, reaching up to push a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, her eyes falling closed.

A soft sound escaped her parted lips, and he could see the contentment on her features. She trusted him, and that meant everything to him.

"I could get used to this," she said in the thinnest of whispers.

"Me too," he whispered back.

Her eyes opened, searching his for something, and when she seemed to find what she was looking for, once more, her lips took his into another searing kiss.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the other wrapping around her waist as he turned her, so she lay beneath him. He made sure not to crush her with his imposing weight and cradled her head as he pressed loving kisses along her jaw. Her head tilted back in his grasp, allowing him to trail kisses down her neck, sucking a bruise into the juncture between her shoulder and neck. She moaned softly, arching under him, making his cock throb where it lay tucked against her stomach. He groaned at the swarm of sensation running through his veins as he dragged his arousal against her stomach, biting a little too roughly into her shoulder. He earned her nails digging into his back a moment later in retaliation.

He relished the sting, nipping at her jaw as he worked his lips back to hers. He sucked hard on her bottom lip before fusing his lips with hers, needing to be so much closer to her. Sansa cradled his jaw as they came up for air.

"You would never hurt me, right?"

Sandor startled out of his lust-filled haze. He placed his hands beside either side of her face and pushed up to look her in the eye. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sandor wouldn't lie and say he wasn't somewhat confused by her question. He thought he had proven that he would never bring any harm to her. He'd rather get burned a thousand times over than hurt her in any shape or form.

Sansa blushed and shook her head, running a reassuring hand down his forearm. "I don't know why I asked that," she muttered, nibbling at her bottom lip.

Sandor felt strange hovering over her, half-hard when she was conflicted about something going on inside her head. He maneuvered himself off the bed, grabbing his briefs, and pulled them on concealing his arousal. He saw her face fall, a frown formed, and he hated to see that he had put such a look on her face. She shoved the covers off her, seeming to misread his intentions as she walked to her closet and found a nightgown that she quickly pulled on, hiding her bare skin from his eyes.

He walked up behind her, but she moved around him with ease and left the room with haste. He sighed and put his jeans on before going to find her. He didn't mean to fuck up so badly, but he figured it would happen eventually.

He found her in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. He wasted no time in explaining himself.

"Sansa, I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was running away from the conversation. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable sharing whatever was on your mind with me being hard and whatnot."

He moved closer to her, her back faced him, and he stood behind her, lovingly moving her hair off her shoulder. He bent at the waist, pressing a kiss to the tender skin right beneath her ear.

"Don't be sorry. I just am letting my insecurities get in the way."

He turned her around, cradling her face with both hands, not missing how his fingers stretched past her brow. She was so small and delicate compared to him, but he knew she was fierce and brave.

Her big blue eyes met his, and he saw the vulnerability that projected from them. "Do you think I would hurt you, Sansa?"

"No, but I've been hurt before."

Sandor hated the thought of anyone daring to hurt Sansa. She always seemed to be smiling and was bright and inviting. He couldn't imagine anyone even trying to snuff out her radiant light. He leaned in, touching his forehead to hers, her hands found purchase gripping onto his wrists.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Sandor could hear the strain in his voice. He knew if she told him about someone being violent towards her or verbally abusive, he would want to find this asshole and give him a taste of his own medicine. Still, he wanted Sansa to trust him and confide in him about anything and everything.

"Can we sit?"

"Of course." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and followed her to the couch they had occupied earlier.

He sat beside her, noticing the way she nervously toyed with the ends of her nightgown. He placed his hand upon hers, giving her a gentle squeeze to let her know that he was prepared to listen when she was ready to talk.

"I met Joffrey in college. I was twenty and had never had a serious boyfriend. He was kind to me and made me feel good about myself. We dated blissfully for two years before he asked me to marry him. The moment the ring was on my finger, and we were on our honeymoon, he showed me his true colors. He told me how he never wanted to be with me and how he only married me because his parents thought I would be the perfect trophy wife when he made his way in his political career. I didn't want to believe him. So, I let his harsh words go that night and thought maybe it had been a fluke.

"It wasn't. He berated me at every turn. He told me I was worthless, ugly, too fat, not good enough, and at night he would hold me down and tell me his whores knew how to please him unlike me. I stayed and pretended like I was fine in front of friends and family. I was a teacher by the time I turned twenty-four, and those kids were my salvation. I mentioned once to Joffrey how we could start a family, thinking maybe that would make him more agreeable. It only aggravated him, and he ended up hitting me for the first time that night. I stayed and stayed even though he hurt me, but never on my face, only in places I could hide from others. I ended up turning to alcohol. Jeyne saw my descent into depression and practically forced me to get a divorce. It was ugly. It took a whole year of torment before he let me go.

"I took time off from work to focus on leaving him, and still because of everything he did to me, I couldn't stay sober. The first time I wanted to get sober is when I saw you. I knew that if you were ever to look at me, I'd want to have my life somewhat together. I'm better now, but I'm still terrified that they will show their true colors when it's too late if I give someone a chance."

Sandor sat frozen, his brain processing everything she had just told him. He felt rage burn through him just thinking about this Joffrey fuck lying to Sansa for so many years and doing everything to tear such a beautiful woman down. Sansa was perfect in so many ways, and for someone to say she was worthless, ugly, fat, not good enough, made him want to break Joffrey's fingers slowly before he broke other parts of his body equally slow. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to stave off such dark thoughts.

"Fucking bastard," Sandor spat, his hands turning into fists.

Sansa sat up, straighter at his words. "Sandor," she said ever-so-softly.

"You are beautiful in every fucking way. You deserve to be treated like a queen. You are not worthless, and you never will be. I would never lay a violent hand on you or say anything that would diminish your self-worth. You are so precious, Sansa. You met a guy who didn't deserve to lay a single finger on you and gods I would end him if I could, but that wouldn't change what he did. You didn't deserve to suffer. _Fuck_ , Sansa, believe me when I say what you see is what you get. This _is_ me. I would never lie to you or manipulate you into believing I was someone I'm not. I hardly have my life together, and yet, I somehow unconsciously helped you and fuck, that means so much, Sansa. I'd do anything for you, and I know that sounds crazy because we hardly know each other, but I already adore you, and I'll spend the rest of my days showing you that you deserve to be cherished in every single fucking way."

Tears had started to stream down Sansa's face, and Sandor was quick to take her face in his hands, wiping them away with his thumbs.

"You're so precious, Sansa. So fucking precious," he rasped, hoping she could see how much he truly adored her.

"You won't hurt me," she remarked, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Never, I would never hurt you."

Her eyes darkened, licking her lips as she placed her hand on his knee and leaned in, eliminating the space between them. "Make love to me, Sandor."

"Sansa-"

"Please," she insisted, running her hand up to palm his already hardening cock.

He let out a huff of air. "You know I could never deny you."

A radiant smile appeared on her face. "I know."

He laid her back on the couch and gave her what she wanted, positive that at the same time, he had handed his heart over to her as well.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> CREDIT: Robbie Lee Harris, Adia Jamille and To-Re-Nee Wolf  
> https://tucson.com/news/local/black-lives-matter-mural-project-launches-in-tucson-amid-protests-unrest/article_06397c67-a3d0-54e3-8741-7823f76b4916.html


	6. Let Me In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> This is a very short chapter and is the epilogue to this cute little story that came out of nowhere in my head. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you all for sticking with me!
> 
> Much love <3

**Gimme, gimme that love, I'll be waitin' for ya'  
Catch my hand, I'll be fightin' for ya'  
Let me in, yeah, let me get closer  
Got me runnin' wild like I feel it all over  
Catch my hand, I'll be fightin' for ya'**

**Epilogue**

1 year later

"Auntie Sansa!" A familiar voice made Sansa raise her head from where she worked on her garden. She watched as Kira ran across the stone path, her pigtails flowing in the wind, and a huge smile stretched from ear to ear adorned her rosy face. Not far behind was Sandor looking ever the Greek God with his midnight hair tousled, silver eyes bright, and a smile meant just for her upon his lips.

Sansa wiped her hands off on her jeans, the pair used explicitly for any situation where it might be a mess. She opened her arms, prepared for Kira's enthusiastic hug given every time they saw each other.

After Sandor and she made their relationship official, Sansa spoke to the board about switching classes to ensure that they didn't think she was playing favorites when it came to Kira. They allowed her to change classes with another teacher that was willing to do so, and the rest has been history since.

Sansa had become extremely close to Sandor's family over the past year. It was a much-needed connection after all the time she had been estranged from her own family. She had tried reaching out to them, but the only one that genuinely opened their heart was Arya. They had started out talking on the phone. Now, they had seen each other many times. Arya reminded her to focus on the good things in her life, such as teaching, Sandor, and the new friendships she had made.

Sansa and Elena had a lot in common, bonding over their experiences and even helping to mend wounds that they didn't realize still afflicted them. Sandor's mom couldn't be sweeter; she was all sugar with a touch of spice and truly made Sansa feel like she belonged with their family.

Sansa only fell more in love with Sandor with every passing day. He treated her the way she had always longed to be treated by a man. The arguments they had were never extreme and always dissolved with them kissing like they hadn't seen each other in ten years. Sansa felt on top of the world with Sandor by her side. She couldn't imagine a life without him or his family. She knew, without a doubt, she could accomplish anything life threw at her with all of them as her support system.

Kira threw her arms around Sansa's neck, and Sansa held her tight, lifting her off the ground with ease. Sandor walked up to them, leaning down to press a swift kiss to Sansa's forehead. She beamed up at him, grateful for the chance encounter that brought him into her life.

Kira began speaking excitedly about the camping trip they would be going on this weekend. Sansa listened with a huge smile upon her face.

Sandor walked inside, most likely in search of his guilty pleasure-his favorite soda-cherry vanilla coke. Sansa always ensured that the fridge was stocked with it. She knew he would always have one when he was over. The one soda a day didn't seem to do anything to Sandor's physique because he was still built to perfection.

Sansa set Kira down, who immediately started playing with the toys Sansa left near the garden. Sandor walked back outside, taking a seat on the patio chairs on the porch. Sansa moseyed over to him, a smirk appeared on his face, and she took a seat on his knee. She brushed a stray strand of hair away from his face and leaned in to capture his lips in a chaste kiss. He tasted like cherry, and she knew that she would never tire of the taste as long as they lived.

They watched Kira in comfortable silence for a few moments until Sansa broke it. "Would you ever want a kid?"

Sandor stroked the slope of Sansa's neck with his fingertips. "If I had a babe with you, Sansa, then yes, I would want a kid one day."

Sansa blushed and gave him a shy smile. "I've always adored kids, but I never thought I'd have one. Not with a man that I truly loved. I want that with you someday, Sandor."

"I want that with you too, Sansa. A kid, the whole white picket fence shit. All of that with you."

Sandor pulled her into another chaste kiss, keeping it PG for Kira.

"I love you, Sandor."

Sandor pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I will love you, Sansa, always and forever."

Sansa forced the happy tears threatening to fall not to and nodded.

"Always and forever."

_The End._

☼

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on this cool website called tumblrrrr where you can tell me how much I suck ;P
> 
> [Here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spikeisinspace)
> 
> Also, I have Spotify, two playlists that help me write my sansan fics
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14LClemkZyjcuNxbvKAcgI?si=iWx_DAwWQxiEShuzEoJSCA)  
> AND  
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7vPAudNBfufcCoI4Y8JN5G?si=NAL2cTArTm2OJ-rcIjY4Sg)


End file.
